Swimming to Peru ~~~ anna hood ~~~

Last night I was dreaming
or perhaps I was writing
a poem about swimming
in the river
your river that cuts
the marble hills in two.
(They say it flows all the way
to Peru) You were there
promising me a ride
on your boat, Queen Mary
tied to the dock below
the big house, Alcatraz
hunkered down behind sentinel pines.
Look up. Look way up.
Your mother's there working
lurking on her web
hair battleship grey
blue blood beating her temple
lips thinning to nothing
against her serrated tongue
splintering her martini
-very dry dear with a twist-
glass.

Anyway in this dream - or poem -
I was swimming
shiny phosphorescent as a rainbow
trout chasing the silver spoon
your threw
spinning twisting
snaking breaking
the water where money flowed
where I swam.
I rose to the bait
didn't see the line
but felt the bite
like a black widow's
when you bagged me.

Damn Incas.